Before we arrive in a few days, I just wanted to take a minute and thank you for offering to host Thanksgiving Day dinner. I am beyond thankful. In fact, when you said, “Why don’t you guys come here?”, I swear I hung up the phone and screamed, “Hallelujah I don’t have to stick my hands inside that cold, dead bird and pull out whatever the heck is in there!!” That alone, makes you almost like a Thanksgiving Day God to me.

To show my appreciation of getting to forego this gross, yet delicious tradition, I promise I will eat EVERYTHING you put on that Thanksgiving Day Feast Table! The turkey (white and dark meat), the stuffing, the mashed potatoes (with or without lumps), the gravy, the cranberry sauce, the corn and even the sweet potatoes (which I kind of hate). I’m sure my family and I will love it all, well, all of us minus one. Ryan’s not going to eat any of it. Nope. Not a bite. Not a taste. But, perhaps a lick. A lick is Ryan's way of confirming that whatever touches his tongue isn't "deadly" and won’t kill him. So, no matter how many stars the recipe got on Allrecipes.com, Ryan’s not buying it or trying it. I’m sorry. Sort of. Not really.

Just keep in mind, no matter how much work you put into the feast, no matter how much time you spent making the table look like something Marth Stewart would drool on the turkey for, he is not trying to ruin your Martha moment. You may very well make a pumpkin pie that would make Libby jealous and ask for seconds, but, my kid isn’t asking for firsts or seconds. If the pie smells good, Ryan may take a tiny lick with the very tip of his tongue which may horrify you and your other guests, but, honestly, if even the very tip of his tongue touches a piece of that pie, you should not be offended by what is perceived as lack of manners, you should be thankful that he thought your pie smelled good enough for the tongue test. Chances are, it will not pass the tongue test (so few things do), but the fact your pie got tested by him at all is a much better rating than any star you’re going to get on AllRecipes.com.

I know that I have talked to you before about how autism makes Ryan extremely sensitive to tastes, smells and textures, but, with all the excitement of the perfect Thanksgiving Day feast, sometimes I think you forget. I know that the pictures in Bon Appetit Magazine do not show a photo of a kid happily licking a piece of pumpkin pie and it may not show Velveeta Shells and Cheese gracing the exquisite holiday dinnerware, so perhaps Ryan doesn’t quite fit in the picture you have in your mind of this perfect day, but, I want you to know that as difficult as it may be for you to accept that your food is not Bon Appetit quality in Ryan's book, it’s even more difficult for him to be asked to “just try it”. He can’t try it, he won’t try it, so he’s not going to try it. His body won't let him, so please respect that and know that he is happy and not starving.

Even though his plate will consist of a bun and the Velveeta Shells and Cheese we brought from home, rest assured, Ryan is still thankful to be a part of the day. A day that includes sitting around your table listening to 12 people having 12 different conversations while the television blares the much anticipated football game as his sensory system takes in the smells of 12 different foods coming from the kitchen. All of these things are more difficult for Ryan to handle than asking me to stick my hand inside 12 cold, dead, turkeys and pull out that "stuff". Ryan is trying to be a part of the day, a part of the picture, even if his part looks different than you imagined.

I don’t want to apologize again this year because I’m not sorry, I’m thankful. No more “I’m sorry he didn’t eat” or “I’m sorry he doesn’t like____(insert any word that is not Velveeta Shells and Cheese here) or “I’m sorry the holiday music was infused with some Spongebob scripting”. No, I’m done apologizing. The only thing I’m sorry about has to do with me, not him. I’m sorry that my boy may never knew how delicious it is to scoop up stuffing and mashed potatoes in one bite or how fabulous a piece of cold turkey is the day after Thanksgiving when you’ve recovered from your turkey hangover and you decide to break the absurd promise you made to swear off ever eating turkey again, but, I am grateful that my son has the ability to express himself in whatever way he can. I’m thankful that he has a voice to say, “That looks gross” or “No way is that going in my mouth”. I am thankful that he is able to tell me, and you, what his body can and can not tolerate. Not all people living with autism can do that. So, I’m not sorry that he only licked your pie then wasted it and that you had to “dirty one more pot” to make his Velveeta Shells and Cheese. The only thing I am sorry for is that you may be overlooking what matters most.

You may have the perfect idea of what Thanksgiving Day is supposed to look like. The table, the food, the cornucopia centerpiece and even the guests surrounding the beautifully, meticulously adorned table. Maybe having someone who is different at your table skews that picture a bit. But, isn’t learning and sharing one another’s differences what the very first Thanksgiving Day Feast was all about? Sitting down to share a meal in order to understand and show respect for one another’s differences? I’m willing to bet that those guests at the very first Thanksgiving Day Feast may have eaten without matching flatware, grabbed a second bun without asking, talked in a manner not everyone understood and possibly even licked their food to determine if the food might possibly be "deadly". Gasp!

Just like the Pilgrims and the Native Americans were trying to understand and accept one another’s differences, all those Thanksgivings ago, Ryan and others living with autism are trying to understand our differences too, and they hope you will provide them with the same courtesy. Ryan could not imagine EVER letting his potatoes touch his stuffing (if he were to ever eat them), let alone putting two types of food in his mouth at THE EXACT SAME TIME, even though I can’t imagine ever eating just a bite of potatoes without stuffing. That doesn’t mean that I am wrong, that doesn’t mean that he is wrong. It just means how we eat and what we eat, be it Thanksgiving or any other day, is different.

So, this Thanksgiving (and the other 364 days of the year), my son and I would be incredibly thankful if you took some time to try and understand him rather than judge him. To appreciate him rather than disparage him. To accept him rather than dismiss him. And maybe then, your perfect pie, your beautiful table, and your pot soaking in the sink with remnants of Velveeta Shells and Cheese stuck to the sides, won’t matter quite as much as they did last year. Maybe, you and your guests could take a lesson from the guests gathered around that first Thanksgiving Day table by recognizing there are more things that you have in common than there are differences. And in order to share the the table, the feast and the world, we have to learn to accept one another’s differences, even if it means tongue testing the pumpkin pie.

Thanks for listening. Thanks for understanding. Thanks for accepting. And thanks for cleaning out the turkey.

Most would not see it. The subtle changes would not be remarkable to most. The tiny nuances in his body language, his facial expressions, his tone of voice. The way his eyes sparkled and seemed genuinely interested in the faces gathered around my BFF's kitchen island. Chances are, most would not recognize the change, see the progress. It's not because they weren't looking, it's because they didn't know what they were seeing.

When most of us enter a party or a social event, the introductions are fun. The casual, "Hey, how you been?" or "How's work going?" are all part of the obligatory social scene, that we humans participate in, but, most of us want to get down to the nitty gritty. Get the party rolling. A dinner party? Where's the food? A cocktail party? Let's break out the margaritas! A birthday party? Chocolate cake for me please! A dance party? Let's bust a move! But for me, a girl who loves getting down to the nitty gritty with margaritas, cake and dancing as much as the next girl, this night, it was all about the beginning, the introduction.

For those who don't see it as clearly as me, it's kind of like reading a good book, you remember the gist of the story, the bits and pieces that stood out in your mind, and chances are you also remember how the story ended, but, very rarely do we remember the introduction. After all, the introduction is a brief few pages that sets the story and leads you to where all the good stuff is found, to the nitty gritty. On this night though, the way Ryan set the stage in the intro was the most glorious part of the story for me.

The way he walked into the house, smiling and comfortable, his hair still damp from the shower he timed perfectly in order to attend the gathering. The way he greeted people with a genuine smile, deliberate eye contact and happily, loudly, shouted "good!" or "great!" when they asked how he was doing. The way he lingered around the kitchen island looking and feeling like he belonged rather than shooting off to a room to escape the intro and be alone. The way he stood...confident and welcoming rather than awkward and distant. The way he made himself feel at home, whipping open the refrigerator door and finding a spot, his spot, for the Sprite he brought along after taking off his shoes and placing them neatly in my friend's laundry room. It was the details of the beginning of this story that made me go to bed that night as contented and calm as if this story were a lullaby someone had soothingly sung to me as I snuggled deeply under the covers.

As with most stories, the introduction doesn't last long. After a few pages, the heart of the story, the nitty gritty begins. Ryan's intro didn't last long either, but, just like setting the stage for a good book, his intro set the stage, and the night, for me.

I watched him as he worked so hard to engage and try and keep up with the numerous conversations bouncing around the room. I watched his body visibly relax when people responded to him in the way he had hoped, thus making his response back easier. Then I watched as the conversations around the island became more personal than generalized. I brought up school work in an attempt to drag out the introduction for another page or two and as I did, I could see his eyes darting from person to person, not sure of what to say or do next. I could see the introduction fading, the words starting to blur together and Ryan went with what was safer, what was easier, he asked me to heat up his pizza (that he also brought from home) and went and sat alone at the kitchen table, getting to the nitty gritty of his story.

Ryan quickly ate his dinner and moved into the living room with his laptop and his beloved Minecraft YouTubers. People who are safe. People who expect nothing from him. People whose facial expressions and body language do not come through their computer's microphone causing him to wonder their meaning. His introduction was swift, complete and perfect, however, the rest of the story, the nitty gritty, may be what folks remember most. Folks who did not witness the introduction in Ryan's prequels.

For those who don't know Ryan's story well, some may see the details of the differences only, like not wanting to eat with everyone else, or eating something different than the rest of the guests. They may remember that he sat in the living room playing Minecraft alone rather than playing board games with us at the dining room table. What sticks out in their memory may be his laughing out loud to his fellow YouTubers rather than enjoying the company and laughter of the other guests in attendance. They may remember the middle, the nitty gritty, and believe this is the gist of Ryan's story, but, not me. I know that no matter how quickly the introduction ended, how few pages it took to set the scene, I know the introduction was an incredibly powerful few pages that told a lot.

This is because in Ryan's world, the introduction may be the toughest part of the story. And as his mom, I know in the previous stories, the prequels, Ryan's introduction, did not read anything like his most recent story.

You see, once upon a time, Ryan's introduction did not exist. There was no introduction. There was no greeting, no hugs, no welcome, and certainly no small talk. There was no confidence, no comfort level, no desire to even try and be part of the group for even a minute. There was only him and his desire to survive, get through and get home...where he was safe. He never set the stage to allow people to get to the nitty gritty of his story and well, without an introduction, most people closed the book and walked away, leaving Ryan's story untold.

As a mother who has always known there was so much more to this book than just the beautiful cover, I have longed to turn the pages and tell his story for him, and I guess in some ways I have. However, as pleasant as it would be to drive down the highway listening to Julia Roberts read Pride and Prejudice via audio book (Yes, I just compared myself to Julia Roberts. My blog. My audio voice selection), wouldn't the story be so much better if Jane Austen could tell you the story herself? To really know and understand the story from Jane's point of view. To have Jane Austen, whose story it is to tell, be able to read the words as she felt them, to hear her voice explain the words as she believed the characters lived them.

I believe Ryan is starting to tell his own story, using his words, finding his voice. It may not have the details that my stories have and the stories will most assuredly be less wordy (some of you are jumping for joy), but, the words will be HIS and they will be words he fought long and hard to find and share in order to tell his story. The words, no doubt, will be powerful and worth the read, especially if you continue to read past the brief introduction.

The introduction may not stick with you like it does me, but, remember how important the intro is and how much effort goes into those few pages in order to set the scene for the entire story. Keep in mind how many attempts have been made to start the story only to scrap it altogether because the words got jumbled or lost and didn't make sense to him or the reader. The introduction may not be the most telling part of the story to you, but, telling it at all, is the nitty gritty to him. I promise you, the intro will eventually get you to the gist of Ryan's story, so, don't close the book too soon because the ending is going to blow you away.

When we first heard The A Word, thousands of questions went running through my mind like a runaway freight train. One question chasing the next and the next and the next, until they all sort of crashed at the end of the tracks in a heap of a mess that was my terrified brain. All of those questions in that mangled up heap began with the words, "Will he....?".

Will he ever know I love him? Will he ever have friends? Will he be mainstreamed in school? Will he ever have his own language? Will he ever be potty trained? Will he go to college? Will he get married? Will he have a family? Will he be able to live on his own? Will my beautiful, perfect little bird ever be able to leave the nest without grabbing and chucking me out of the nest first to provide him with a soft, safe place to land? Will he, will he, will he? Ahhhhh!!

That runaway freight train in my brain raced down the tracks ten years ago and although it still sometime goes off the tracks, most of the time, it stays on a slow and steady course. Today, I still do not have all the answers to my questions about tomorrow. Does anyone? Although I may not have the answers, what I do have are signs. Signs of progress, signs of independence and signs of maturity. Signs that no longer have me obsessively wringing my hands silently wondering, "Will he?", but, have me cheering out loud, "He will!"

Ryan has removed so much doubt, and answered some of my questions which has enabled me to confidently shout, "He will!" time and time again. For example, I have no doubt that my son knows, without question, that he is loved and he undoubtedly, without question, loves back. As for the "Will he ever have friends?" worry, Ryan has two close friends who accept him for being exactly who he is. Does anyone really need more? Ryan has been mainstreamed in school since kindergarten. Sure there have been bumps along the way, but, thanks to amazing teachers and Ryan's persistence to succeed, he has answered that question for me as well. The whole married with children thing, well, I don't even go there...too much. It's too far in the future since Ryan is only 14 and girls are just starting to show up on his radar (Yes, I live in denial and I'm totally fine with those girls remaining tiny blips on his radar screen for many, many more years).

The biggest question, the one that keeps mothers of children with different abilities up at night, is the "Will he ever leave the nest...without me?" question. As for Ryan, I know he will, as soon as he figures out how much Tide goes in the washing machine and he can wash his own Hollister shirts. Yep, when that happens, my little bird will fly so far away that I hope he remembers how to fly back, at least for the holidays.

I have wondered and worried for years about my little bird, and I am just as certain that one day Ryan will fly the nest as I am his neurotypical brother and sister. Autism may makes things challenging outside the nest, but, in many ways my bird could fly out of our family's crazy cuckoo's nest today and succeed and here's how I know:

1. Ryan use to cry when I left him in a strange new place that was out of his comfort zone, now I cry when he leaves me and goes into a strange new place outside of his comfort zone. The hugs I use to give him, the squeezy tights I use to give in order to reassure him that even though the world is confusing, he can maneuver just fine without me, has now turned into an obligatory hug from him letting me know he will be ok out there in that big, bad world. I know he will find his way.

2. Ryan use to always spend his time under the sliding board at preschool, alone. His days at recess in elementary school were often spent sitting on a bench waiting for recess to end so the routine of the classroom could begin again. Afraid to reach out to the other children because he didn't understand how to play, he didn't recognize their body language, their facial expressions so it was always easier for Ryan to be alone. Ryan still struggles with all of those things, but, last week he decided that perhaps messing up was worth the risk as he momentarily left the nest and trick or treated with other birds, not mama bird. Taking that risk lead to even more confidence, a wonderful experience he had never had before and an exclamation of "I never want this night to end". He will have more nights like this.

3. Ryan use to berate me for not cooking his Velveeta Shells and Cheese long enough, for not using a collander to drain the pasta just so, and for not putting the exact right amount of cheese sauce on the shells (never, ever use the entire bag...ever). Now Ryan cooks his own shells and cheese so my days of Shells and Cheese failure are almost behind me. I know one day he will be able to cook and fend for himself...without me.

4. Ryan could go days upon days without showering if mama bird wasn't always nagging him about his hygeine, or lack thereof. The other day he said, "I'm going to get in the shower because I can't stand to smell myself" and this was only day two of no showering (on the weekend, when hygiene tends to take a backseat). I know he will make sure he smells clean when smelling clean is necessary.

5. Ryan use to need me for everything, especially when it came to school. He has such a perfectionist nature that he fears failing at anything. I always had to reassure him that his work was correct, that his test would be easy, that he would succeed. Now he loves being independent. He loves being smarter than me. And he loves that he is having success on his own. He will head off to NYU to become a computer coder leaving mama bird in that tiny little nest eating scraps since I will be able to afford nothing else. (Feel free to make donations...now). Later, mama bird.

6. Ryan use to have such extreme fears that leaving him on his own would have never been an option. The chance of a thunderstorm happening if we were out would have sent him running to the basement freaking out in a corner waiting for us to return home. Now, if I'm out and a storm passes through I will call and check in and he tells me, "I'm just fine Mother", with an aggravated tone since he needed to step away from the TV, laptop, etc due to the storm and my nagging worry of him being struck by lightening while operating an electronic device inside a house that I implanted in his brain. I know he will live on his own and chances are be happier than ever without naggy mama bird.

7. Ryan use to have a visual schedule to follow to help him remember what to do and what happens next. These schedules provided Ryan a sense of security so he wouldn't miss a step. Now Ryan remembers what's next on his own and if he forgets, he becomes frustrated, but, he quickly recovers making note of what needs to change so it doesn't happen again. I know he will never pay a bill late or forget to pay his taxes.

8. When Ryan was younger, he would sometimes stumble out of the nest, going because he knew it was expected, he knew it was what he was suppose to do. Now, when Ryan takes off, he no longer stumbles, he soars with a grace and confidence I feared I would never see. He no longer feels like he has to go, he wants to go, and although it will be sad to watch him spread his wings and fly, oh how he's earned it.

Autism or no autism, no mama bird knows what the future holds for their babies. As much as we want to hold on and keep them in the nest where we know they will be safe, we have to do everything we can to let them go and be ever so grateful that they can. All we can do as we watch them soar from the nest is remind them that they will always have a safe place to land and shout as they spread their wings and take off, "You will!"

Author

Definition of Awe:"a mixed emotion of reverence, respect, dread and wonder inspired by authority, genius, great beauty, sublimity or might." Yep, someone should have consulted a mom before spelling AWEtis﻿m.